Penultimate Day Blues

The sun is shining, birds are singing and black beetles the size of your fist are on the wing and giving me some serious fear …

But alas all good things come to an end and tomorrow my short break in the picturesque village of Triana, Spain, will be over.
It’s been such a relaxing time, a time to catch up with old friends and drink beer somewhere different. Not forgetting of course the chance to experience the unique ‘Pint of Carling and a Bacon Sandwich – Only 5 Pounds!’ deal in the airport bar on my morning of departure. At 6am.
Although I’ll be sad to leave, with dreams of making a home yout here for Mrs. Funk and I burning brightly in my head for weeks to come, it will be good to be home.
Pint in the Kings on Sunday anyone?

Waiting Patiently 2 – The Wait Is Over

It was good news!

I was livid!

What a relief…

Waiting Patiently

Technology is often a wonderful thing …

I am currently in the doctors surgery for example, waiting to receive the test results from my last visit to the hospital. I have been here now for 2 hours, waiting patiently, and thanks to the quite frankly miraculous technology powering my latest mobile phone am able to quite comfortably create this entry.

Technology can sometimes be a right bastard…

I am currently in the doctors surgery for example, waiting to receive the test results from my last visit to the hospital.  I have been here now for 2 hours, waiting patiently, thanks to the bloody electronic arrival notification system in operation at the surgery.  I arrived at 8:30am for an 8:45 appointment, and duly entered my details onto the touch sensitive booking in screen, and was rewarded with the message ‘Your Arrival Has Been Recorded’.  I settled down into a chair, safe in the knowledge that someone, somewhere in the surgery was indeed aware of my presence and were preparing for my visit, and mused on the heavy days work ahead of me in my hush hush position for the government.  Work which would unfortunately fall on the shoulders of my top secret colleagues while I wasted my time waiting for information which could probably have been communicated to me by a more expedient process. 

Like the mail.

I sort of consoled myself with the thought that perhaps they had called me in because there was some problem that needed dealing with, the consolation being of course that I wasn’t wasting my time by being here to hear ‘no news’, not that there would be something wrong.

As the surgery clock ticked round to 9:15am, I decided that, although I had overheard the receptionist explaining to another patient that one of the doctors was off sick, and that a certain amount of rescheduling had taken place to fit everyone in, it was time to enquire whether or not I would be seeing someone soon.  So I made my way to the desk, and rang the teeny tiny bell to gain the receptionists attention.  After a short pause, during which the assistant receptionist delivered her tray of steaming mugs of tea, the receptionist came over to the desk.

‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes please, I’m just wondering if you can give me a rough idea when I will actually be seen?’
‘What time was your appointment?’
’8:45 – I arrived at 8:30′
‘Ooh, you’ve missed that.  Did you arrive yourself?’
‘Yes, I drove.  My cars in the car park.  Should I have brought someone with me?’
‘No, you misunderstand.  Did you check in on the arrivals thingummy bob on the desk’
‘Ah!  I see.  Yes, I did’
‘Well, you can’t have done it right.  It hasn’t registered you.  Mr Funk is it?’
‘It is’ I answered, simmering with barely pent up fury that technology had finally let me down.
‘Well, can you make another appointment?’
‘No, I’m missing work as we speak.  I’ve waited 2 weeks for this appointment…’
‘Well, I’ll try and fit you in with the duty doctor, although there’ll be a bit of a wait’

Dutifully, I rang the top secret government department and spoke to my handler to inform him of the situation, and give him the bad news that he would have to arrange for an alternative interrogator for my first few ‘appointments’.

So, here I am, waiting patiently, having watched countless patients enter and leave the surgery, their examinations complete.  ‘The Don’ – noted bon viveur of the village – has been, had his ears syringed, and gone again.

Technology is a wonderful thing…

While waiting, I have, via the facilities offered by my quite frankly amazing new mobile phone, managed to eschew the dubious delights of the waiting room reading material, in favour of scanning the Guardian online, and have checked out the surgerys website (in vain I might add) in search of a place to register my views.

Surely my turn cannot be too much longer.

I hope it’s good news…

Good News (for a change)

Regulars at the Kings heaved a huge sigh of relief recently…

It wasn’t the recent onset of warm weather, which has finally convinced certain members of the Grumpy Club that it was safe to take off their coats while sampling the wares of the pub.

It wasn’t the fact that Chantel McGregor has kept her promise, and looks likely to never play at the pub again.

It wasn’t even the fact that Fanackapan has finally had his ‘jewish adjustment’, and he no longer walks around with a look like a frightened rabbit in anticipation, although he is currently walking around a little bit like John Wayne – and that could equally mean Marion Morrison or John Wayne Bobbitt.

No.

After months of speculation and uncertainty and behind the scenes negotiation, it looks possible that we may finally get a Dyson Airblade installed in the gents.

Faced with a ludicrous 90+% increase on the rent of the pub when he came to renew the lease last year, Landlord Andy decided that he wasn’t going to stand for it. The options from the pub company were 2 fold and fairly straightforward – pay up or leave by the end of the year.

Andy chose the top secret third option – fight!

He sought advice on tenants rights and the rules and legality around rent increases, and concluded that the dastardly pub company just might be in the wrong with regard to the level of rent increase they were demanding. So he decided to take the company before an arbitration hearing, in the hope of resolving the issue in a legally binding way. The pub co responded by extending the deadline, possibly in the hope that Andy would just give in and pay up. But I’m sure anyone who has encountered Andy when he has the bit between his teeth will testify, that wasn’t going to happen.

The hearing was finally scheduled for 12th April, and as the day loomed, an air of despondency settled around the pub as locals contemplated the closure of yet another local favourite. It’s possible that the company would have installed new management, but on past experience it might have only been a matter of time before the Kings Arms went the same way as the Fountain.

So, it was with some surpise that the Grumpy Early Birds called in a couple of days before the deadline to find mine host whistling, skipping round the pub and contemplating turning the heating on. As the day was nice, he even threatened to sit out front and relax in the sunshine for the day.

The pub company had capitulated at the 11th hour!

Probably realising that they could not possibly win the case, they had pulled out of the hearing, made a sensible offer on the rent and agreed to extend the lease for 20 years.

So, with the future of his tenancy in the pub assured for now, it’s time for Andy to make good on his promise to install those Airblades ‘if and when I get an extension on the lease’!!

Do you get it?